


leave the light on

by zeraparker



Category: Formula E RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Dom Drop, Dom/sub, Feels, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Pre-Negotiated Kink, Rape Fantasy, Rape Roleplay, Sleepy/Unconscious Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 16:51:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16141454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeraparker/pseuds/zeraparker
Summary: One by one he undoes the buttons on his dress shirt, on the cuffs around his wrists. The fabric joins his jeans on the floor. He moves around the room then, taking off his wrist watch, setting it on the mantle piece across from the bed. He circles the bed once, but Jean-Eric's face is buried into the blanket, unable for him to see.





	leave the light on

**Author's Note:**

> BIG ARROW UP TO THE TAGS. Read them to know what you're getting into, or check the end note for an extended summary containing major spoilers.
> 
> ____________________
> 
> So after the wonderful welcome back (seriously, you people make me tear up, I love you) and the wholesome happy porn, I now bring you some less wholesome more kinky porn. Enjoy!

The lamp in the hallway is switched on. Andre stares at it for a moment, his hand still on the key in the door, before he pulls the key from the lock, steps into the apartment and closes the door behind him with a quiet click. It's a warm light, greeting him after the fluorescent glare in the stairwell leading up to Jean-Eric's flat in London. The clock on the wall above the lamp shows it's almost 1am, his flight having come in late. The rest of the flat is quiet, asleep like the streets outside and the neighbours in the rest of the building.

He sets down his luggage in the hallway, toes off his sneakers. The hour and the circumstances make him want to stay silent, not disturbing the quiet that's spreading through the rooms like a mist, creeping around in the shadows beyond the glow from the lamp.

The set of keys clink together when Andre puts them down on the sideboard, a token of Jean-Eric's affection he'd received a couple of weeks ago, like the light that's waiting for him now, spreading a warmth through his body every time his fingers touch those two extra keys added to his keyring. It softens the ball of want that had built in his guts over the past days of not seeing each other, over the exchanged videos and text messages that had kept them connected while they were travelling around different sides of the globe, the last ones exchanged only hours ago.

Andre thinks of them now as he slides off his jacket, checks his phone before leaving it with the keys next to the lamp, and moves down the hallways towards the bedroom.

The blinds are open, allowing shafts of pale moonlight to reach across the floor, the bed, and Jean-Eric's prone body. He is naked, mostly, lying on his side. He's wrapped himself around the bulk of the blanket, one leg hooked over it, spreading the thin fabric of his briefs tight across the swell of his arse. One arm is outstretched towards the far side of the bed, the other curled around the soft blanket, holding it against his chest protectively. He is breathing evenly in his sleep, his face hidden by the mount of fabric.

Andre wants. The arousal he'd felt earlier when they'd texted, _fuck_ , sexted really, returning with a vengeance. He hadn't been able to hold himself back then, disappeared into an empty bathroom at the overlay in Frankfurt Airport and jerked off hastily like he'd been sixteen again at all the filthy suggestions Jean-Eric had texted him. He doesn't think he can hold himself back now. His eyes take in all that skin, colour washed out from the moonlight, making the crevices between muscles deeper in the stark shadows that fall across Jean-Eric's body.

There's a visible shiver running over Jean-Eric's skin and he moves in his sleep, his hips moving into the blanket, a sleepy noise that could almost have been a moan. _Must be a nice dream he's having_ , Andre thinks, when Jean-Eric's hips twitch again, and before he can stop himself he's moved his hand to squeeze at his hard cock through the stiff fabric of his jeans. He hisses at the feeling, eyes roaming over Jean-Eric's back, lingering on the rise of his arse, on the dimples on either side of his spine just above the waistband of his underwear, his hipbones. With a shuddering breath he reaches for his belt buckle, undoing it, peeling out of his jeans. His cock is tenting the front of his underwear. The belt makes a faint noise as it clatters to the ground.

One by one he undoes the buttons on his dress shirt, on the cuffs around his wrists. The fabric joins his jeans on the floor. He moves around the room then, taking off his wrist watch, setting it on the mantle piece across from the bed. He circles the bed once, but Jean-Eric's face is buried into the blanket, unable for him to see. He retraces his steps across the room, toes off his socks, takes off the soft t shirt he'd worn below the button down. For a moment he hesitates with his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his briefs, then has them join the rest of his clothes on the floor.

Naked he moves towards the bed. He can smell himself, the scent of a long day travelling mixed with the animal smell of arousal and sweat that's broken out on his overheated skin, making him feel feverish. The mattress dips under his weight. Jean-Eric makes a soft sound, his leg flexing around the blanket he's curled up with. Andre tries not to jostle the mattress too much as he stretches out behind Jean-Eric on his side, studying him up close. He lifts one hand, hovering it a couple inches above Jean-Eric's skin, wondering where to touch. There's a gap between the mattress and Jean-Eric's neck where his upper body is angled forwards, weight resting on the blanket in his arms, and Andre carefully pushes his arm through that gap, getting leverage to pull Jean-Eric slowly back against himself, and then presses his whole body along the length of Jean-Eric's, pushing his nose into the fine hair at the back of his neck, breathing him in deeply. Fuck, he smells good, of sleep and warm sheets and comfort, and he licks at his neck too, his free hand finding Jean-Eric's hipbone to hold onto. His heart is hammering in his chest, the hard length of his cock rocking against the curve of Jean-Eric's arse.

Jean-Eric stirs at being touched, moved, but sleep has made him sluggish to react. He makes a disgruntled noise at the back of his throat, that turns into a confused hiss when Andre bites at his neck, plunges his hand beneath the waistband of Jean-Eric's underwear. “What... Andre...”

Andre breathes harshly, his fingers wrapping firmly around Jean-Eric's stiff cock. “I missed you,” he grunts through clenched teeth, “Fuck, Jean, I want...” he breaks off, his hand tugging roughly at Jean-Eric's cock, feeling his hips stutter forwards into his grip, before he lets go of him, reaching lower to cup his balls. Jean-Eric makes a strangled noise at the back of his throat, squirming in his grip.

“Andre, please,” Jean-Eric gasps, trying to close his legs, but the bulk of the blanket he's half on top of and Andre's weight solid behind him, holding him down, makes that impossible. His squirming intensifies, one hand reaching up to grasp at the arm that Andre has across his chest. “No, wait.”

Andre doesn't wait. His fingers yank at the waistband of Jean-Eric's underwear, trying to push it over the swell of his arse, struggling against the way Jean-Eric is twisting in his hold. His fingers delve into the crease between his arse cheeks, suddenly slippery with the slick there, brushing over the flared end of the plug that Jean-Eric had worked inside himself earlier. “You slut,” he whispers against the shell of Jean-Eric's ear, feeling him shiver all over. “Can't go a night without my cock?” He pushes against the end of the butt plug with his knuckles.

Jean-Eric is thrashing in his arms, the fingers he's wrapped around Andre's wrist digging in sharply. “Fucker,” he hisses, cursing when Andre digs his thumb and forefinger around the butt plug and tugs. The muscles in Jean-Eric's buttocks flex, clenching around the plug. Jean-Eric whimpers, and Andre lets go of the plug to dig his nails into his arse cheek.

“Come on,” Andre urges him on. “Let me in.”

Jean-Eric whimpers again, but when Andre pulls on the base of the plug once more, he's able to pry it from his body. His fingers slip over the toy, recognising its shape and width before he drops it off the bed behind himself, pushing two fingers into Jean-Eric's stretched hole.

_Fuck, he's going to feel this_ , Andre thinks, knowing the size of the plug in relation to his own cock, and shivering. He scissors his fingers, feeling how tight Jean-Eric still is around them, despite the plug and the copious amounts of lube he'd apparently used. He prepared enough that it's not going to hurt outright, but it's going to be uncomfortable and the tension Andre can feel throughout every inch of his body won't help. “Relax,” he says, his voice hoarse with anticipation. “Stop struggling.”

“Please,” Jean-Eric whines, high pitched and desperate when Andre uses his body to pin him down, lines himself up, but stops thrashing when he feels the blunt tip of Andre's cock against his hole, going rigid. “Please!”

Andre pushes forwards. Jean-Eric's body yields after two, three thrusts, and - _God_! - he's tight and hot, shivering and flexing around him as Andre sinks into him, forcing himself forwards in one long push until he bottoms out, Jean-Eric's arse pressed tight against his groin. Jean-Eric makes a half-hearted attempt to get away, his outstretched arm reaching for the far edge of the mattress, another whimper escaping when Andre rocks forwards into him.

God, it feels good. Blood is rushing in his ears, his own breathing harsh against Jean-Eric's neck. He's holding onto him with his one arm across his chest, his other hand at Jean-Eric's hip bone, turning him into a puppet for his pleasure. Jean-Eric is breathing harshly too, almost a sob on every exhale, his body slowly giving in, going limp between Andre fucking into him and his own cock being pressed into the bulk of the blanket, a different kind of friction.

Already Andre can feel orgasm creeping up on him, an accumulation of the past days, the past hours cresting in this urge to take and Jean-Eric now underneath him. He is struggling to keep a hold on reality, just wanting to claim and own and keep. He bites at Jean-Eric's neck, licks over the marks and bruises he leaves there.

His palm slips on Jean-Eric's hip bone, pushing in between the blanket and his body. He finds his cock painfully hard, and Jean-Eric throws his head back and cries out when he wraps his hand around it firmly. “Show me how much you need this,” he murmurs, his lips brushing over Jean-Eric's ear. Jean-Eric shudders, a whole body tremble that starts in his legs and moves throughout every limb of him, and then comes hard, thick ropes of come splashing over Andre's hand, into the blanket, the noise he makes muffled as he bites into his lip.

The intensity of his own need hits him like a hammer. Andre grunts, fucks him through it, unrelenting in his pace as he feels Jean-Eric twitch around him and go entirely boneless, all fight drained from his body, a soft, keening whimper falling from his mouth every time Andre thrusts into him, and it's those little noises that drag him over the edge, his vision whiting out as he buries himself in Jean-Eric's body, pushing in as deep as he can.

For long minutes, their rough breathing is the only sound in the apartment.

Jean-Eric is trembling as if he is cold, if not for the heat that's radiating off his body like a furnace. Andre's hold on him loosens slightly, then tightens again, clinging to him as they try to catch their breath. He shifts his hips, feeling Jean-Eric twitch as his flagging cock slips from his body.

“Fuck,” Andre murmurs. He feels light-headed, empty, his tongue thick in his mouth. Trying to gauge a reaction, he pushes himself up to one elbow to get a glimpse of Jean-Eric's face, but the other is still turned away, facing the other side of the bed, the fingers of his outstretched hand still clutching at the edge of the mattress with a knuckle-white grip, and his mind zeroes in on that, everything else turning to static.

Untangling himself, he staggers to his feet, crosses the room on unsteady legs, heads into the bathroom. His stomach is churning. He fears he's going to throw up, the acidic taste of bile already at the back of his tongue. The light above the bathroom mirror blinds him as he grabs for the sink, steadying himself with both arms braced against it, taking deep breaths. His head is spinning as he lets it hang, his eyes finding the marks Jean-Eric's death grip has left around his wrist, already starting to turn from red to an ugly shade of purple.

“Andre?” Jean-Eric's voice is muffled from the other side of the door.

Andre can feel his eyes burn. There's movement in the bedroom, and then the door opens, Jean-Eric blinking into the bright light of the bathroom lamp. He's pulled up his underwear to cover himself, and slipped into the discarded button-down Andre had worn earlier, his crossed arms making the fabric wrap tight around his body. He looks dishelved, fucked out and a little defensive.

“Alright?” Jean-Eric asks. He's still shivering.

Andre wants to wrap him in his arms, kiss him, bury his face in his neck and hide. He wants to bend him over, lick the come from his arse and fuck him against the bathroom counter. There's too many warring thoughts in his head and he just wants to knock his forehead against the tiles. Some of the confusion must show on his face.

“Andre, look at me.” The quiet calm in Jean-Eric's voice jars him.

Andre forces himself to look up, to meet Jean-Eric's gaze for the first time this night, for the first time in days really. His cheeks are blotchy, his eyes a little blood shot. He looks calm though, despite the wet shimmer in his eyes and the shivering he can't entirely suppress.

“Too much?” Jean-Eric asks, taking a careful step closer.

Andre shakes his head, more to clear it than as an answer. “Intense,” he eventually says, the word alone feeling like hard work when what he really wants to do is sink his teeth back into the tender skin at Jean-Eric's neck and drag him back to bed.

“Yes,” Jean-Eric agrees and takes another step closer until he's standing next to Andre, fingers reaching out to touch Andre's hand where he's still tightly gripping the sink. “But good.” There's the slightest inflection at the end, just so betraying Jean-Eric's cool.

“Yes?” Andre knows he sounds needy, shame at wanting, needing the confirmation spelled out so clearly. It shouldn't matter so much, feel so different to all the other sex they have, he knows the depths of their depravity with all the roughness and boundary pushing they've done over the past months, but this feels different. Ever since Jean-Eric had whispered the idea into his ear a couple weeks ago, curled up against his back, his lips at Andre's neck - and he hadn't been able to see his face then either - it had festered at the back of his mind, talked about in texts more than in person, fantasies tossed back and forth between them until this trip had provided the perfect opportunity. So it shouldn't feel any different. It makes no sense. Yet the little smile that tugs at one corner of Jean-Eric's mouth and the quick nod he gives seems to lift a giant weight off Andre.

“Can I touch you?” Jean-Eric asks, his voice quivering.

Pushing himself away from the sink, Andre straightens on still unsteady legs, opens his arms and Jean-Eric falls into them, pressing his face into Andre's neck.

“I missed you,” Jean-Eric admits, lips brushing over Andre's skin as he talks.

“Missed you too,” Andre replies, squeezing him tightly, feeling Jean-Eric shaking in his arms. “Let's lie down.”

They're a mess. The bed is a mess, blankets crumpled and stained, but it smells like sex and comfort and _them_ when they sink into it, barely letting go of each other long enough to undress Jean-Eric, and that's all they need right then.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Andre arrives at Jean-Eric's flat in London in the middle of the night to find him naked in bed, asleep, undresses and joins him on the bed to then fuck him roughly. The whole setup has been prenagotiated between off-screen beforehand, which becomes clear after their sex when Andre experiences dom drop, feeling ashamed that he's got it in himself to just force himself on Jean-Eric like that even though he knows they talked about this before and that it was something Jean-Eric explicitly asked him to do.


End file.
